


Wicked When He Works It

by IfWallsCouldMuke



Series: Muke as FUCK [25]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Daddy Kink, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9934358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfWallsCouldMuke/pseuds/IfWallsCouldMuke
Summary: It's not legal.





	

Luke knows he’s got a lot of problems, and sleeping with Michael is his biggest one.

Because Michael—or rather _, Professor Clifford_ —is his Art teacher.

–

_September_

 

Luke hasn’t got a clue why he’s even taking an Art class when he hasn’t been in an Art class since primary school. Also, given his best style of artwork is drawing fucking _stick people_ , it’s naturally advised _against_ to taking an Art class.

“You’re hopeless,” Ashton, one of his lesser dickwad of classmates, informs him as he tries to draw a naked sculpture.

“I already knew that, thanks,” Luke rolls his eyes at the curly haired bastard.

“You’re welcome, baby,” Ashton blows sarcastic kisses.

Luke rolls his eyes.

He’d _much_ rather draw the instructor of this class, Professor Clifford, who insisted that the class calls him by his first name—Michael. Luke calls him professor just because.

_And what I’d do to draw him na—_

“Luke!” Ashton’s hissed calling of his name snaps him out of his reverie. “The class ended. Don’t you have Philosophy class to go to?”

“Uh, yeah,” Luke replies dumbly. He hasn’t got a working brain. _As always_.

–

“You really need a lay,” the only other person Luke has befriended over the course of three years of college, _Calum_ , states really bluntly. “Like, you’re so tense all the time.”

“Like the stars, the person I want is unreachable,” Luke replies as a matter-of-factly. “And in this galaxy we live in, I’m just another speck that breathes the air.”

“I knew persuading you into taking _Intro to Poetry_ classes was a bad thing,” Calum sighs.  “Did you enjoy your Art class, at least? I know you only have two classes today.”

“Mate, I have two classes everyday from Monday to Thursday,” Luke presses his urge to roll his eyes at his friend, and he almost failed.

“But today’s one of the two days you get to see the hottest prof on campus!” Calum grins, as if that is something Luke should be excited about. _And he was_. “Tell me, did he bend over to show—”

“I do not have a fetish of looking at thirty-something-year-old men’s asses,” Luke tells Calum, exasperated.

“Whatever you say, Lukey.”

_I do have a fantasy of the said-thirty-something-year-old man spanking me whilst naked though._

–

“Luke, can you see me after class today? It’s important.” Isn’t something Luke wanted to hear from Professor Clifford when the aforementioned prof was doing a check on his students halfway through the class.

“Sure,” he affirms.

An hour later, with sixty-nine minutes left for Luke to get to his next class, he’s sat on a stool, being stared by Professor Clifford.

“You do know that you’re failing this course, right, Luke?” After what feels like an eternity, the professor breaks the ice. “Not just marginally failing, you’re failing miserably.”

“I’ll do extra assignments—”

“How about you come back to my place and I give you some pointers?”

_Another thing I wasn’t expecting at all._

“I have Philosophy class, sir,” he remembers, just barely.

“I’ll write them a note.”

–

Luke has never been more nervous as he is right now, sat in Professor Clifford’s blue Prius. It’s raining—or _misting_ , for the better wording of it—as they wait for the red light to change into green.

“Only a few more blocks, I promise you,” Professor Clifford chuckles. “Your nervousness is so tangible, even I can tell that.”

“I _am_ in the car with one of my professors, aren’t I?” Luke remembers just in time that he shouldn’t really rolls his eyes at his professor. _And Calum was wrong. Up close, Professor Clifford looks closer to mid-to-late-twenties than thirties._

 

After maybe seven or eight blocks, which happens to be Luke’s professor’s definition of ‘few more’, they arrive at a reasonably sized flat.

For a professor anyways.

“Well, I guess, welcome to my humble abode,” Professor Clifford looks almost apologetic. “It’s not really—”

“It isn’t too shabby,” Luke comments. “Am I getting inside or what?”

 

Despite the small-looking exterior, the inside of the flat suite is seemingly large and cozy looking. There’s several furniture scattered about, in a symmetrical way, Luke notes.

“Your flat is symmetrical,” Luke says out loud, feeling stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

“It _is_ symmetrical,” Professor Clifford admits. “I made sure as hell that even the rooms were aligned in such way.”

“Before you bought the suite?”

“Yeah,” the Art professor puts his satchel down. “Now, you don’t even know what a dessin is.”

“Um?” Luke speaks up intelligently.

“It’s basically doing a sketch with your 2B pencil,” Luke can already tell his teacher has given up on him. “Or _preferably_ a 2B pencil. That’s sort of the standard for dessins.”

“What even is a fu—fricking _dessin_?” Luke mutters.

And there it is, the most beautiful sound Luke has ever heard in his life—Professor Clifford’s laughter.

“It’s French for ‘drawing’,” his teacher informs him. “God, Luke, you really are hopeless.”

“I thought it was a teacher’s job to encourage their students into blooming their full potential, not drag them down.”

Luke knows that he has a smart mouth, and he also knows that he should keep it shut half the time.

Especially when the professor’s laughter died.

 _Fuck_.

“You really shouldn’t tell your teacher what to do then,” the red-haired man states simply. “Now, let’s go to my art room.

–

The art room is the one that’s located at the far-top-left corner from the view at the door, as Luke soon discovers. It has bunch of canvases and paints, all symmetrically placed.

“You have OCD,” Luke figures.

“Not _that_ bad of a case,” Professor Clifford points out. “I mean, I didn’t yell at you to place your rucksack at a certain place.”

“You convince me,” Luke barely manages _not_ to put any sarcasm behind his words. “So, are you gonna teach me this _dessin_ thing now?”

“I should probably start on how to hold the pencil correctly…” the teacher starts. “You curl your forefinger… no, not _all the way_ … just up until your knuckle… and then…”

 

Since they’re _so fucking close_ , Luke can almost count each individual eyelash on Professor Clifford’s left eye. He can see the greyish darker green flecks on the older male’s iris.

_And I can totally kiss him if I lean just a tad bit…_

“Luke?” Luke jumps back, resulting in hitting the easel _beside_ him, and his butt says hello to the floor. He curses as a hand hovers above him. “That answers my question. Take my hand.”

Luke gets a horrid idea.

And proceeds to do it anyways; he pulls Professor Clifford atop his body.

“Luke,” Professor Clifford sounds not-at-all accusatory. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Luke asks innocently.

“Fuck it,” is what the older man says before dipping his head down to kiss Luke. Luke sees the fireworks when their lips meet, his throat producing embarrassingly loud moans. The kiss lasts not even a few seconds before the professor pulls away.

“Prof—”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” the red-haired male shakes his head. “Fuck.”

“Um,” Luke says dumbly.

“I’ll drive you to the nearest bus stop. Sorry. Lesson over for today.”

–

“So tell me,” Calum wiggles his brows. “Did you two frickle frackle?”

“No one says ‘frickle frackle’ anymore,” Luke squints at his sandwich he got from the cafeteria. He’s half-certain it’s been two weeks since it expired, despite what it says on the packaging. “And no.”

“That’s sad.”

 _Agreed_.

“What about you and Ashy boy?” Luke waggles his brows. “I know you’ve had a crush on him for a while.”

“You have your dreadful Art class with him,” Calum scowls. “ _You_ ask _him_ what’s going on.”

“CalPal doesn’t know what really is going on?” Luke chuckles.

Calum throws a piece of soggy fry at him in reply.

–

“Luke!” Professor Clifford calls his name out as he sets his foot outside the classroom after the class ends. “A moment please?”

Luke wants to thank the gods above that his Philosophy class is only one three-hour long class per week.

“Sure,” Luke turns back around and fights his way back through a throng of people, back towards the Art professor.

“We should talk about extra assignments you can do to pass this class,” Professor Clifford starts off. “What kind of form of arts are you good at?”

 _Sucking you off, probably_ , Luke’s lewd mind beats his head to it. “Um.”

“God, you really are hopeless,” Professor Michael sighs. “ _Extra_ assignments, Luke.”

Luke blushes at the implications.

“But sir,” Luke leans in, hating his height for the first time in his life. He shouldn’t be the one leaning down. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“I’ve been single for a while.”

Luke watches the older man walking away from his room only to lock the classroom and coming back, pushing Luke down onto his knees.

“Why don’t you show me how good you are at Art you really are, baby boy?” Professor Clifford’s words are good enough to get Luke hard. “Show me.”

 

Luke nods and undoes the older man’s jeans and gapes at the size before him. He’s 100% sure he won’t be able to fit all of it in his mouth without deepthroating.

 

So he does exactly that. He goes down all the way from the get-go, moaning around his mouthful. The older man lets out moans that only encourages Luke, making him bob his head up and down at a fast rate. He wasn’t expecting the professor to start thrusting in his mouth, causing him to gag. He enjoys it though, having someone control everything.

 

Professor Clifford comes within ten minutes, saving them both from getting caught.

 

“You get a B+ on the latest assignment,” the prof says, tugging his trousers back on. “Meet me back here after your Philosophy class, got it?”

Luke nods weakly.

–

“Pro-professor!” Luke cries out as Professor Clifford spanks his ass again, his cheeks stinging from the blows they’ve endured.

“I told you to call me Michael,” Professor Clifford—Michael—grouses, delivering another blow.

“ _Michael_ …” Luke moans out, his dick harder than ever. “Pl-please…”

“Please what? Fuck you raw against my desk so hard the janitors will hear us? Is that what you want?” Luke’s dick hardens even more, “Is that what you want, babe?” He repeats when Luke stays silent.

“Yes…”

“No prep, you’ve been a bad boy,” Michael states as he takes out a lube bottle from his backpack. Luke raises a brow at that. “I have my needs, okay?”

Luke moans, as he watches his professor slicking himself up with lube, when he’s pressed down against the desk. He lets out a loud whine at how slow Michael enters him. The sadistic part of him enjoys the burn from the lack of prep. Michael wastes no time in thrusting in and out of him, which Luke loves a lot.

“Fuck, more!” Luke mewls out as he rocks his ass back against Michael’s hips. “Please…!”

Michael complies, redoubling his thrusts.

They both come in unison, Luke feeling completely spent as he lies still against the desk.

–

“Do tell me!” Calum elbows at Luke’s side for the thousandth time that morning. “C’mon! Don’t be shy!”

“Nothing happened, jeesh,” Luke tries to brush his friend off.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s written all over your face!”

“What’s written all over his face?” Ashton couldn’t have found a worse time to join Luke and Calum.

“That Lukey-Pookie here slept with Professor Hotness!” Calum tells on Luke.

“Oh my God, you slept with Professor Clifford?” Ashton lets out a sound that’s nearly a high-pitched squeal. “Tell us the good bits!”

“I kept telling this goon—” Luke flicks Calum’s nose. “—that no such thing happened.”

“Dude, mate, pal,” Calum chides. “We’re your friends, we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Luke bites his lower lip.

“Maybe.”

Both Ashton and Calum let out an excited squeal.

–

_October_

“Mm, mm, _Michael!”_ Luke screams out as he comes all over Michael’s sheets, his hole numb from Michael’s fingers exploring it. “Fuck, you made me come from fingering.”

“You’re so sensitive, I like it,” Michael smirks, slapping Luke’s ass cheek. “Can you go one more round, baby boy? Think you can handle daddy’s cock?”

Luke’s cock tip twitches at Michael’s self-calling ‘daddy’.

“We’re still in your classroom… anyone can walk in on us,” Luke reminds the professor. “And I just screamed from you finger-fucking me. Someone’s gotta be listening in on us.”

“A little bit of fun can’t hurt anyone, right?” Luke moans, his cock swelling up at the feeling of Michael’s tip pressing into his hole. “Besides, I’ve fucked you in my classroom before, what makes this time around different?”

“The fact that I’m more willing,” Luke blushes, pushing back against Michael’s cockhead. “Please, daddy…”

Michael pushes in and starts a fast, erratic pace, making Luke cry out from pleasure. Michael does a wonderful job at nailing his prostate with every stroke, which is a plus.

Luke’s balls are dry of cum by the time Michael fills him up nicely with his own seeds.

–

“You and Professor Stud should be more careful,” Ashton hisses a warning during their art class. “I was down the hallway when I hard you calling him…”

“‘Daddy’?” Luke giggles with his reply; Michael’s eyes land on him.

“If I heard it, probably half the school did too,” Ash sounds more serious than he should be. “This is a teacher-student relationship. It was supposed to be a fling.”

“He and I are both adults. The worst he can be charged for is an affair,” Luke shrugs. “Why are you so obsessed with it?”

Ash flips Luke off.

 

Michael’s pale green eyes never leave the pair.

–

“I’ve seen Ash somewhere before… Ashton Irwin,” Michael comments as Luke removes the last remaining article of clothing from him. “And I don’t mean school.”

“He’s a part-time model,” Luke giggles, rolling on top of Michael in his bed. “He does stuff.”

“I’m not talking about that…” Michael groans low as Luke’s puffy hole brushes against his main shaft. “Baby, did I not tell you that teasing is a sin?”

“Maybe you should remind me.”

 

Thirty minutes later, Luke is screaming from all the pleasure he’s receiving as Michael continues to fuck the prostate-stimulating vibrator into him after he’s come twice already from fingered and being eaten out.

“I can’t come again, daddy…” Luke whines out, his cum-swollen cock saying other wise. “Please…”

“Come for daddy, little one,” Michael muses out, and Luke shakes his head. Sighing, Michael removes the toy and pushes his hardened cock inside instead. Luke cries out and comes as if on cue. Michael sets a vigorous pace, Luke’s hand behind his back, his fringe sticking to his forehead. He feels like a whore, and he fucking loves it. He’s being dominated by the hottest person on Earth.

“Who do you belong to?” Michael whispers, his lips and stubble grazing Luke’s porcelain skin.

“You, daddy.”

–

Needless to say, Luke tells Ashton to inform his profs that he can’t attend his classes when he wakes up in Michael’s bed, his entire body on fire. There isn’t a single inch of his body that isn’t hurting. Michael returns to his bed with some Advil pills in his hand.

“That won’t do shit,” Luke takes the pills and swallows them. “I came three times in an hour, do you know how hard that is?”

“And this is why you’re a whiny little bitch,” Michael chuckles. “I called in sick.”

“Can profs do that?”

“I only had one class to begin with.” Michael pats Luke’s cheek.

–

_Present time_

 

“So now you tell me,” Michael sighs. “I love you too.”

“I—”

Luke was sleeping when he slipped out his ‘I love you’ to Michael, and Michael was awake to hear that.

 

It’s the summer of 2017, and Luke graduated from his college.

 

And now he’s spending the entire summer with _Michael, his promised-to-be._

 

“Nice to be outside of Australia for once, isn’t it?” Michael asks as he turns around to look at Luke, dressed in a pair of white jeans and a grey tank top.

“It’s humid here,” Luke replies, drinking in the sight of Michael in dark-washed jeans and a black Metallica shirt. “God, and I thought Canada was cold?”

“Apparently not,” Michael chuckles. “Ashton says hi, by the way.”

 

Luke scowls at the mention of Ashton.

“That bastard,” Luke huffs. “He didn’t tell us he was an undercover cop!”

“Well, he saw how in love we were and didn’t report us in like he did with that other professor who was fucking her student,” Michael shrugs.

“I’m not marrying you,” Luke giggles.

“You are, little one.”

 

Luke sighs, melting into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> The relationship is toxic af, but every relationship is in a degree or two.
> 
> Next oneshot is up within two weeks, I swear.


End file.
